


Amo Ergo Sum

by Colluctancy



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, Warcraft III, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Romance, F/F, Slow Burn, modern au aka i know more thalassian than lore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-07-11 00:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colluctancy/pseuds/Colluctancy
Summary: Jaina Proudmoore is Azeroth’s youngest PhD recipient, having graduated from Dalaran University’s prestigious graduate program for Ancient Thalassian Studies at the age of 22. Three years have passed, and Jaina now sits at the head of the Elwynn Museum of Art, Stormwind’s largest collection of ancient art.Sylvanas Windrunner is the owner of the Undercity, a mixed martial arts gym by day and underground fight club by night. Having established herself as the only undefeated fighter, she has amassed a loyal group of followers known as the Forsaken.One fateful evening, they find themselves at the scene of a crime, both witnesses to a devastating catastrophe that will forever alter the course of their lives.





	1. I

**/ prologue /**

/ _burn with me (victoria edit) - dj koze_ /

Just outside the doors of a bustling nightclub stood a looming figure dressed entirely in black. A few paces away, one of the men that served as security listened intently to the voice coming from his earpiece. Music spilled out from the doorway behind the guard, the bass slightly muffled due to the distance between the entrance and the music’s source. After a moment, the guard nodded in the stranger’s direction.

“Head straight to the back and up the stairs. The boss is waiting for you.”

Without a word, the figure headed inside. As he made his way through the crowd, his long silver hair caught the bits of light that danced around the nightclub, creating almost a glowing effect from his shoulders up. The plain suit he wore melted into the occasional pockets of darkness that he passed through on his way to his destination. Altogether he looked entirely out of place, his attire more appropriate for the boardrooms and executive offices he undoubtedly spent much of his time in. The nearby patrons were either too intoxicated to notice or didn’t care to.

When he reached the upper loft area that overlooked the nightclub, he was waved over by a man seated at a set of low couches. The lighting made it difficult to properly see anything, but as the guest approached he observed that the man before him was built like an ox. He had the physique of someone who was ex-military but still took the time to exercise regularly, and the muscles of his arms and torso strained against the tailored fit of his blood-red dress shirt. As the man stood he reached out a large hand to greet the newcomer, the light glinting off the various rings that dotted his fingers.

“Welcome to the Warlord my friend. Sit, make yourself comfortable. Is there anything I can get you?”

The guest ignored the question. “I believe it would be best if we proceeded directly to business.”

“Of course, of course,” replied the larger man, somewhat taken aback by the response. He took a sip from the drink that had just been placed in front of him by one of the bartenders. “So here’s my problem. Some of my guys on the inside have told me that the Silver Hand recently brought in a new detective, some hot-shot from out of town. Business as usual at first: a wad of cash here or a favor there and the authorities would look the other way. Then out of nowhere one of my suppliers gets hit by a sting operation in his own turf, and within a few weeks he’s behind bars. You gotta understand, the way my people operate leaves no room for paper trails, no possibility for witnesses, nothing.”

The stranger remained silent but had leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest. The slight tilt of his head was the only indication that he was listening.

“I want you to look into the situation with this new detective. No idea if he’s even the problem, but it’s just too convenient. The Silver Hand used to be lazy, but now they’ve really cracked down on any sort of…business activities. I hear you’ve got resources well beyond what I’ve been able to build for myself,” the man motioned around him. “Just name your price, I don’t care what it takes so long as we can get this detective the hell out of my way.”

The guest nodded, then stood up to take his leave. “I will contact you about payment after the job is finished.”

The seated man momentarily scrutinized his guest, then added: “You got a name that you go by? Don’t think I caught it when you first arrived.”

The stranger’s hair had picked up that otherworldly glow again, and he stopped his movements to address his new business partner. “I go by several titles, but Lich King will suit our purposes just fine.”

**//**

 

**/ chapter one /**

/ _alaska (sofi tukker remix) - maggie rogers_ /

Jaina Proudmoore took a deep breath before turning the handle and opening the door to her new office. After being appointed the new Director of the Elwynn Museum of Art, she had been allowed to choose how she wanted to furnish the recently emptied workspace. Not used to having every resource at her fingertips, Jaina’s request had been fairly simple: a basic desk and chair on one side of the room, perpendicular to the floor-to-ceiling windows that stood directly opposite the door and occupied the entirety of what would have been the eastern wall; a couch and coffee table where she could read or entertain important visitors; and every last bit of open wall space covered with bookshelves. Jaina ran her hand across the cool surface of the desk and made a mental note to personally thank whoever had gone through the trouble of assembling the numerous pieces of furniture.

“Is everything to your liking, Dr. Proudmoore?”

Jaina turned to look at the intern that had addressed her, chuckling at the decorum. “Yes, this is perfect. And you can call me Jaina, no need for the formalities.”

“Oh, okay,” the young woman fiddled with the cuffs of her blouse, clearly unaware of the nervous tick. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Nothing at the moment. You’re free to take the day off if you’d like.”

“Should I let Antonidas know?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. He’s no longer your supervisor, if I recall correctly.”

“Wait…” a flash of realization crossed the intern’s face. “You’re the new museum director?”

“As of today, yes.”

“Oh my goodness, pardon me for not realizing! I had no idea this used to be Antonidas’ office, I only started here two weeks ago, and I wasn’t even thinking, I had assumed you were one of the curators since you’re so, uh…”

“Young?” Jaina finished for her.

“I mean…well, yeah. No offense of course!”

“None taken.”

Relieved that she hadn’t ended up on the director’s bad side, the intern excused herself and hurried out of the office, taking pains to close the door behind her as quietly as possible. Jaina inhaled deeply and let out a sigh. Not once in her life had she ever felt welcome in any social groups. It never bothered her much growing up, and by nature her introversion meant that putting effort into human interaction was mentally taxing anyhow. But every once in a while, she’d get hit with pangs of loneliness, and this was one of those moments. The young intern—Jaina only a couple years her senior, actually—had treated her like the numerous older men that had occupied this office before her. It was just one of many moments throughout Jaina’s life where she wished she could live a “normal” life, whatever that might entail.

Gazing out the massive window before her, Jaina could see the shadows cast by the numerous skyscrapers beginning to make their evening stretch across the city. She didn’t need to check her watch to know she had only a few short hours left before she would be expected to make an appearance at her first official event as Museum Director: a fundraising gala where she would get her first taste of the art world’s lesser-known corporate side. Part of her responsibility was ensuring that the museum received enough funding to continue day-to-day operations and acquiring more art pieces for future exhibits. While she wasn’t looking forward to what would essentially amount to panhandling, the potential donors would not be attending tonight’s event if they didn’t already have an interest in supporting the public’s access to art and art history.

Just over three years ago, Jaina had started out at the museum as a lowly summer intern working in the archives. Her first task as a new hire was transferring decades’ worth of handwritten records into the online databases. While the rest of the interns would complete the work as hastily as possible so that they could be rid of the tedious work, Jaina was content to spend hours poring over the old documents that made up the innermost workings of the establishment. Sure, her PhD in Ancient Thalassian meant that she was painfully over-qualified for the position, but that was a detail she had consciously omitted on her application in an effort to come off as “ordinary;” after all, at the age of 22, her peers would have only just finished their undergraduate degrees, and it was unlikely that someone her age would be taken very seriously, with or without a doctorate.

It didn’t take long for Antonidas to realize that Jaina was too brilliant to be digitizing documents at minimum wage. When skimming over her work to check for common mistakes that summer interns had a habit of making, he noticed that Jaina had corrected several of the records, reclassifying some of the art pieces while also following proper documentation protocol. The following day, Jaina was called into his office so that she could explain how someone with only an undergraduate education knew so much about museum management. An hour into their conversation, Antonidas was fully convinced that the prodigy sitting before him would be the next Museum Director.

The three years following that initial meeting passed by in a blur. On paper Jaina served as Antonidas’ personal assistant and secretary, but in reality, she was treated as his equal, a mutual understanding having passed between the two that Jaina would take over once Antonidas eventually stepped down. Her selection for the position was met with mixed emotions from museum staff, but by now Jaina was used to the invisible boundary that always seemed to exist between her and her peers.

Jaina finally resurfaced from her reminiscing at the sound of her phone ringing and immediately fished it from the inner pocket of her trench coat to answer the call.

“Hey dad.”

“I’m parked just down the street from the main entrance of the museum. I know I’m a bit early, but I was able to take the evening off so I’m in no rush.”

“Alright, I’ll be down in a bit. I just wanted to see my office before the work begins and everything returns to chaos.”

“How’s the view?”

“I think I can spot you from up here, actually. But it’s breathtaking, I feel like I can see for miles.”

“I remember when you were little, your mother and I would take you to that playground near the first house we lived in. You loved to climb up to the tallest slide tower and pretend like you were ruling over your little island of tanbark.”

Jaina smiled at the memory. “Theramore. That was what I named my playground city.”

“And look at you now. You have your tower, your museum of a city. I’m so proud of you, you know.”

“I know.” A pause. “Thanks for being there for me, by the way. I don’t think I would have made it this far without you.”

“I love you too, Jaina. And don’t stay up there too long. See you soon.”

Jaina waited for her father to hang up, not wanting to miss any last words of advice he might have for her. After taking one last look around the darkening office, she collected her coat from its place on the couch and made her way down to the streets below.

**//**

/ _before i ever met you - banks_ /

Sylvanas Windrunner removed the snug motorcycle helmet from her head and locked it to one of the passenger handrails of her bike. She secured a disc lock to the front wheel of the Sunstrider, readjusted the cuffs of her dress shirt sleeves, and strode over to the elevators at the far end of the parking garage, the sound of her leather boots hitting the concrete floor echoing throughout the underground space. In a last-second decision, Sylvanas pulled the hair tie out of her bun and let her platinum-grey hair tumble down her shoulders. A glance at her digital watch informed her that she was right on time.

Every weekend, Sylvanas took one evening to herself so she could relax and escape the anarchy of the world she lived in. Tonight, however, would be different. What was previously supposed to be a quiet evening spent in her apartment had evolved into a last-minute effort to keep her Forsaken out of trouble. After opening the Undercity, a mixed martial arts gym that also functioned as a fight club, Sylvanas found herself responsible for the well-being of the motley crew that called her gym their home. Some people trained there as a way to keep off the streets and out of trouble, and others were drawn in by the potential earnings of the weekly fights. She herself did not compete and had no interest in sponsoring a team, but those who frequented the Undercity respected her fighting abilities and looked to her as a de facto leader, even dubbing themselves the ‘Forsaken’ after their less than desirable social standings.

The Undercity had afforded Sylvanas a chance to more than comfortably support herself, even putting her in a position to make the connections necessary for more profitable business opportunities. There was always a high demand for muscle, and she could provide that. At first, she took on security details in order to bring her Forsaken a more honest income than was offered through the fight club, but eventually her fighters made their own connections and found side jobs on their own. Sylvanas had no problem with this, her only stipulation being that if any Forsaken got themselves involved in something illegal, they would be thrown out of her gym, no exceptions.

How she had missed the signs that trouble had been brewing amongst her Forsaken, she did not know. In fact, the situation should have been blatantly obvious: her fighters were bristling with excitement over a new job that promised to pay well, but had also taken pains to remain discreet about it. It wasn’t until she cornered one of the newer recruits that she learned the severity of what the Forsaken had gotten themselves mixed up in.

“Talk. Now.”

“I-I’m not sure what you mean by—”

“Do you take me for a fool?”

“No, of course I don’t Sylvanas, I would nev—”

“Then talk.”

The young man, a mere boy really, gulped hard and did not meet her eyes. “Nathanos, h-he found some work for us.”

“And?”

“Well, all he told us was that it would pay really well…”

Sylvanas wrenched the man’s arm and twisted it violently, forcing him to stand on his toes to avoid dislocating his elbow.

“Wait! Please!”

“I’m growing impatient,” Sylvanas practically growled. “Tell me everything you know about the job.”

“Nathanos is in with the Horde!” The young Forsaken struggled to concentrate through the pain. “H-he didn’t want anyone to tell you, because they’re planning a hit on the Silver Hand. Next week, at some private event at the Stormwind City Hall, we’re supposed to keep a lookout while the Horde guys complete a job. We’re not doing anything illegal! It’s just another security job!”

“A job where you’re, what, aiding and abetting murder?”

“I don’t know! Nathanos said if we didn’t know the details we wouldn’t get in trouble with you!”

With her hand still locking the man’s arm in its painful position, Sylvanas turned and half-threw, half-flipped him onto the ground with a dull thud. “Tell the rest of the Forsaken to drop the job _immediately_. I will be at this event. If I see _any_ of you, there will be hell to pay.”

The man scrambled back to his feet, cradling his injured arm as he nodded his assent.

It did not take long for news of the confrontation to spread through the Undercity. As a result, a surprising number of Forsaken had stepped forward to admit their involvement and seek forgiveness. In the days leading up to the event, a small handful of her more level-headed fighters had helped her gather everything she needed to be able to blend in with the high-society snobs she would no doubt encounter: an official invitation, easily forged and complete with all necessary information; a tailored suit, expertly fitted with low-profile stretch points and D3O motorcycle armor so that she could take the Sunstrider without needing a riding jacket; and two throwing knives, crafted out of obsidian so that they would remain concealed in the event that she encountered metal detectors. She had also gotten a newer pair of leather boots cleaned and shined, her usual motorcycle boots far too scuffed to not stand out in the company of millionaires.

As the elevator raced towards its destination, Sylvanas took a series of deep breaths in an attempt to even out her pulse. She was not fond of large social gatherings and often couldn’t keep up with political and financial jargon that was thrown around at such events. More importantly, she wasn’t looking forward to playing sheepdog and rounding up the few remaining Forsaken that Nathanos had managed to hold on to. _Thirty minutes_ , she told herself. _Thirty minutes to deal with whatever trouble Nathanos has gotten into, and then you can take off._

In the reflection of the polished elevator doors, Sylvanas ran her fingers through her platinum hair to eliminate any last remnants of helmet-head and examined the double-breasted suit that she’d received as a gift from Lor’themar. The long-time ally of hers had inherited his father’s fashion empire only a few years ago, and with his newfound assets Lor’themar was able to acquire for Sylvanas a suit that had appeared on runways only months prior. It fit perfectly, and it was nearly impossible to tell that the beautifully embroidered jacket concealed padding at her elbows, shoulders, and back. Under different circumstances, Sylvanas might have been able to fully appreciate the craftsmanship that went into her attire. With the bell of the elevator indicating her arrival, Sylvanas stepped out into the lobby of Town Hall. _Twenty-nine minutes_.

Sylvanas had not the slightest clue that her evening was about to get much more complicated.

**//**

/ _magnets - disclosure_ /

Waiters glided through the throng of luxuriously dressed guests with platters filled with champagne and canapés. Jaina stood in front of the marble balustrade of the concourse, looking down at the gathering below. The occasional sound of laughter floated up from the ocean of noise, and she could see that the majority of the invited guests had arrived.

“Ready, dear?”

Jaina turned to face her father. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Daelin Proudmoore linked arms with his daughter and gently led her down to the reception. As they descended the steps together, he considered for a moment that this might be the closest he would ever come to walking his daughter down the aisle; Jaina had always loved the museum more than anything or anyone else. As a child she had never been an outwardly expressive person, but as her father, Daelin had learned to recognize Jaina’s emotions through the subtle changes of her visage. Glancing over to watch as the young woman surveyed the room in front of her, he knew that the look in her eyes meant that Jaina had finally found her place in the world. Daelin could think of no better time for his daughter to don her mother’s wedding dress.

By the time father and daughter had reached the reception area, much of the din had died down. Daelin released his daughter, planted a quick kiss on her forehead for good luck, and left to go disappear into the crowd. Jaina took a moment to survey the guests to determine the best moment to begin her introduction. Several stragglers were still making their way to the crowd that had formed in a rough semicircle around her. A well-timed throat clearing was enough to further quiet the hall.

“A warm welcome to you all. I would like to personally offer my thanks for relinquishing your Friday evenings to be here tonight. My name is Jaina Proudmoore, and I am the newly appointed Director of the Elwynn Museum of Art.”

She waited for the polite round of applause to subside before continuing.

“Before me stand the very people that make possible the forward progress of Stormwind City. Without the innovators, the thinkers, and the doers, there would be no green spaces, no public library, no Elwynn Museum of Art to speak of. You are here tonight because you believe that art and culture are crucial to inspiring future generations to continue the foundation of achievements that we currently stand on, that the secrets of the past are the key to our future. Tonight, we celebrate the potential of the individual when supported by the strength of many. It is through your generosity that I have been given this opportunity to join you in your pursuit to create a better Stormwind for all.”

Jaina paused to allow her words to sink in.

“Familiarize yourself with the beautiful works of art that you can bid on tonight. The silent auctions will close at midnight. In the meantime, enjoy a drink with an old friend, or share a conversation with someone new. Thank you, and have a good evening.”

With a final round of applause, Jaina gave a polite bow before making her way over to Antonidas, who had stood watching her little speech from the front of the crowd.

“Articulate, as always.”

“Charming, as always. Thank you for coming tonight, Antonidas.”

“Of course, Jaina. Or should I call you Director?”

“Director _does_ have a nice ring to it,” Jaina smiled. “But I’ll always be Jaina.”

“Ah, of course. Jaina the Intern is still hidden somewhere inside Jaina the Director.”

“Careful now, you’re starting to sound like my father,” the woman teased. Antonidas was never one for hugs or warm smiles, but Jaina could tell that he was proud as any parent, if not more so.

“It’s about time I made my leave, it seems,” he said, checking his watch. “My youth has long left me, unfortunately. Have a lovely evening, and be sure to keep in touch.”

“Of course, Antonidas. You’re welcome to visit me at the museum any time. You of all people would know when my hours are,” Jaina winked.

As the elderly man made for an exit, Jaina took a second to appreciate all the little details of the moment. It was her way of grounding herself whenever she got lost in her thoughts and ideas. The dress she wore was the very same that her mother, Katherine, had worn on her wedding day. Jaina had it slightly modified to be easier to move in by having a leg slit added to the white skirt, the sheer fabric maintaining its water-like quality it achieved whenever the wearer turned or moved. The upper portion consisted of a navy blazer-like top that, in its shape, almost resembled the naval coats that were an integral part of both her parents' maritime upbringings. Golden flowers were embroidered on the lower portion of the sleeves and down the front of the blazer, a simple detail that gave the simple dress an elegant touch. The irony of wearing the dress tonight was not missed by Jaina: she knew full well that she was practically married to her work, and it was her mother’s way of supporting her daughter after so many years of dissension.

Jaina allowed her mind to return to the present when she noticed one of the guests approaching her. A quick examination quickly gave away the man’s intentions. He was young, clean-shaven, and approximately Jaina’s age, so he was most likely here because a parent had been invited. He carried two glasses of champagne, which meant that he expected to hold Jaina in conversation for at least a little while. As he approached, the smell of his cologne was surprisingly tasteful and not in the least bit overwhelming. By the time he had entered speaking distance, it became clear that his pupils were dilated—physical attraction. Jaina sighed, but maintained a polite composure. She had more than enough experience dealing with unwanted suitors, and it was almost unfortunate that she’d have to utilize that experience tonight. Almost.

“Good evening, Miss Proudmoore. Could I offer you some champagne?”

As the man partially extended one glass out to her, Jaina also noticed that he had recently, probably earlier in the day, received a haircut. Small brunette hairs dotted the tops of his ears as if he’d been too hasty in the shower after getting the trim. All signs pointed to a try-hard that didn’t quite try hard enough.

“Dr. Proudmoore. And I don’t drink, actually.”

“Ah, well,” the man motioned for a waiter and returned one of the flutes onto the outstretched platter. “How are you faring, Dr. Proudmoore?”

“The evening has only just begun, Mr.…"

“Vail. Noell Vail.”

“Well, Mr. Vail, seeing as you are only the second person I’ve spoken to tonight, I can’t say I’m any worse for wear than I was when I gave my introductory speech 10 minutes ago.”

The newcomer chuckled and shook his head. “You’re quite the intellectual, aren’t you?”

It took every ounce of Jaina’s willpower not to roll her eyes at the increasingly patronizing comments. “I would hope so. I doubt the Board takes the appointment of a new Museum Director very lightly. And there is, of course, the doctorate that I received at the age of 22.”

“Of course, how could I forget?” Vail maintained his charm despite Jaina’s increasingly terse replies. “What, may I ask, was your research focused on?”

“Not much of a reader I see,” Jaina sighed. One of the benefits of being what society deemed a 'prodigy' was that someone had taken the time to create a Wikipedia page for her, complete with information about her research, making it socially acceptable for Jaina to skip awkward introductions. Mr. Vail hadn’t so much as read the first paragraph.

“My work centered on the discovery of a hitherto unknown Ancient Thalassian ruin that had been left untouched as a result of climate change and rising ocean levels. We discovered a series of stelae that enabled us to translate much of the Thalassian language into Common thanks to the combined usage of shorthand cursive Thalassian, its original script form, and accompanying Orcish, thus enabling archaeologists all across Azeroth to begin the work of retrieving the knowledge from the countless texts that have been preserved to date. Once we were sure that my interpretations were accurate, we then created an open-source form of the translation software as a way to engage the public in academic research and cut down the time it would take for researchers alone to perform the translations.”

“We?”

“Innovation does not spring forth from a vacuum, Mr. Vail. My co-researchers, advisors, and participants from the public are just as responsible for this breakthrough as I am.”

“That’s very humble of you.” It was apparent that the man was beginning to run out of ways to keep the conversation moving forward. “Can you speak any Thalassian?”

At that moment, Jaina felt an unfamiliar form snake an arm around her waist from behind before gently filling in the space beside her. Jaina turned to find that the stranger was a woman, dressed entirely in black in a beautifully detailed suit paired with leather combat boots. The woman’s hair was a striking platinum color and reached midway down her back, her sideburns shaved close to her head hinting at an undercut of some sort hidden beneath the rest of her hair.

“ _Shorel'aran_ ,” the woman said, her smooth voice hitting all the intonations with surprising accuracy. She turned and planted a kiss on Jaina’s cheek before asking her, “Is everything alright?”

Jaina, her mind making connections faster than the typical person, immediately realized why the woman had come over and even decided to play along, placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder and pulling the two ever so slightly closer together. Noell, however, was clueless as ever.

“Uh, who might you be?” he asked.

“Sylvanas Windrunner. Would you mind if I stole Jaina away for a moment?”

“Of course not, I was about to go search for some more of the Buzzard Bites actually…”

“Perfect.”

With a tight-lipped smile, Noell Vail nodded to both women and walked away in search of more hors d'oeuvres. As soon as he had entered the crowd of guests, Sylvanas released her hold around Jaina’s waist and took a respectful step back.

“Apologies for invading your personal space, I couldn’t help but notice—”

“That I was receiving unwanted advances from a man who clearly had no interest in my research whatsoever? No need to apologize.”

“In that case, I’m glad I could be of service.”

The two women surveyed each other for a moment, Jaina curious more than anything, Sylvanas waiting politely for the other woman to continue the conversation.

“How do you know how to speak Thalassian?”

“Believe it or not, I frequent that website of yours.”

“That doesn’t explain your linguistic knowledge. The website is text-only,” Jaina retorted, having already predicted Sylvanas’ answer.

“I can’t give away all of my secrets now, can I?”

“No, I guess you can’t. But I think I already know one of yours.”

“And what might that be?” Sylvanas’ tone was equal parts challenging and playful.

“You aren’t really a guest here, are you?”

“And how would you know that?”

“I can’t give away all of my secrets now, can I?” Jaina quipped.

“Fair enough,” Sylvanas was thoroughly enjoying herself by this point. “While I am in fact not on the official guest list, I do have business to attend to. If you’ll excuse me.”

Sylvanas made to leave when Jaina unexpectedly caught her arm.

“One last question: How did you know my name?”

Sylvanas grinned. “Isn’t it obvious? You’re the only one here who gives a damn about the art.”

Before Jaina could respond, a thundering explosion shook the building, knocking anyone who wasn’t standing perfectly still to the ground. The last thing she saw before Sylvanas used her body to shield her from debris was the ceiling of City Hall collapsing in on itself.

**//**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i find impostor syndrome dreadfully difficult to avoid after reading all the beautiful work that the sylvaina ship has amassed over the past couple of months. if you've made it this far, thank you for taking a look at my humble contribution.


	2. II

_Before Jaina could respond, a thundering explosion shook the building, knocking anyone who wasn’t standing perfectly still to the ground. The last thing she saw before Sylvanas used her body to shield her from debris was the ceiling of City Hall collapsing in on itself._

**//**

/ _to the last - james blake_ /

The first thing Sylvanas saw when the dust settled was complete mayhem. Faint moonlight streamed in from the massive cavity in the ceiling, but it was enough to make out the horrific scene in front of her. The massive light fixtures that previously illuminated the space had fallen in with the collapse, which seemed to have been concentrated over the far end of the hall. Marble, cement, and steel reinforcements littered every inch of the once-pristine flooring. There had been a large gathering of people tonight, and no doubt there would be bodies trapped under the rubble.

_So much for thirty minutes._

Sylvanas stood and slowly tested out her neck, arms, and shoulders to ensure that no stray chunks of ceiling had injured her, then moved to help Jaina to her feet.

“Sorry for knocking you down. Are you alright?”

“Physically, yes. I think you managed to shield me from any of the detritus. You?”

Sylvanas took a moment to inspect her suit jacket. The bright orange of her D3O padding was exposed in some places along her right arm and shoulder where pieces of cement and marble had torn through the outer layer of fabric. She could only imagine what her back looked like.

“We’ll have to see when the adrenaline wears off.”

Sylvanas watched as Jaina chewed on her bottom lip in concentration. The guests that had managed to avoid the worst of the collapse were rushing past them for the unblocked exits.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sylvanas inquired, noticing that the alert and focused look that Jaina’s grey eyes had carried only a few minutes prior had since vanished.

“I need to head into the wreckage.”

“What?”

“The explosion was far too focused to have been an accident. The City Hall itself contains nothing of monetary value, which means that the collapse was just a diversion.”

“You can’t get yourself involved in this Jaina, you’re not one of the Silver Hand.”

“You seem to forget the fact that my father is. And this building would have been empty tonight if not for _my_ event.” Jaina collected her blonde hair into a quick bun and began removing her black pumps. “The wreckage conveniently blocks the far passageways from the rest of this area. That back hallway leads further into the building before finally reaching a few different exits, and my guess is that’s where I’ll find some answers.”

“I can’t let you do that. If whoever detonated the ceiling is here, they’ll be armed and probably have some form of backup.”

“Why exactly are you here tonight, Sylvanas?” Jaina’s tone was sharp, and the lack of proper lighting made it seem as if her eyes had turned blue.

“I couldn’t possibly explain everything right now, but I swear to you that this was not my doing.”

It was clear that her response didn’t satisfy Jaina in the least. With her shoes in hand, she hiked up her dress and began a brisk walk towards the wreckage, stepping around debris as she went. Sylvanas quickly caught up and fell in line with Jaina’s pace. They moved together in silence until they approached the mountain of rubble.

“I’m going to need you to hold my shoes, so I can climb.”

Sylvanas raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, easily catching the pair of high heels as they were tossed in her direction. She watched as Jaina, no longer claiming a height advantage in the absence of her pumps, began to methodically climb her way over the chunks of ceiling. She had to suppress her alarm as blonde hair quickly and suddenly disappeared behind the crest of the wreckage. Sylvanas climbed as fast as she could with the limited ankle mobility of her boots, and after reaching the top she understood how Jaina could have descended so quickly. A series of large and relatively flat pieces of rubble made it possible to reach the ground safely in just a few manageable drops. After the last one Sylvanas tucked into a roll before gracefully returning to her feet.

“So, what’s your plan?” she asked as she shook the dust from her jacket and pants.

“The only people I saw making their way for the exits behind us were guests and a handful of Silver Hand,” Jaina explained as she closed the distance between them to retrieve her pumps from the main pockets of Sylvanas’ suit. With a hand on the taller woman’s upper arm for support, she slipped on her heels, then took a moment to straighten out her dress. “It’s as if the waiters up and vanished right after the explosion.”

“There’s no way all of them could have gotten trapped under the wreck, they would have been moving around through the crowd, more so than anyone else, at the time of the explosion,” Sylvanas added.

“Precisely.”

“And your plan is to try and find where they disappeared off to?”

“It’s the most logical course of action.”

Sylvanas hesitated before responding, choosing her words carefully. “I still don’t think that you need to be the one to handle all of this.”

“If you truly had no part in this, then you owe me nothing,” Jaina challenged. “You’re free to leave.”

Sylvanas held the intense gaze of the woman in front of her and considered her options. There would be no time for her to explain the situation with the Forsaken and their involvement with the Horde; they were already wasting time just by having this conversation. But thanks to Nathanos, Sylvanas was now an accessory to… _something_. There was no telling what real damage had been caused by his actions. Her only option was to aid Jaina in whatever plan she had in mind.

“Lead on.”

**//**

/ _blinding - florence + the machine_ /

Jaina felt numb. She knew that it was her mind’s natural response to a sudden onslaught of negative emotions, and that the panic would reach her soon enough. For now, though, she needed to stay focused. She needed to find her father.

Sylvanas followed closely behind as the two made their way through the small maze of passageways that made up the back offices of City Hall. Jaina knew the fastest route to the private parking lot used by city officials, but she also knew that there was a fire exit and a second side entrance that could be used to discreetly enter the building with the proper access codes. Jaina recalled that the food catering service had used the back lot to unload their vans earlier in the afternoon, but that information made little difference. Any professional looking to launch a terrorist attack would have known what they were doing and learned the layout of the building beforehand. Lacking any clear lead, Jaina went with her gut feeling and led the way to the employee lot.

As the two women rounded a corner, Jaina spotted a man clad in black toting a military-grade automatic rifle. Sylvanas was quick to notice as well, and they both ducked back down the hallway, somehow managing to avoid drawing any attention despite the noise their shoes were making on the polished stone floors.

“Is there any other route we can take?” Sylvanas asked in a hushed voice.

“No, not unless you want to set off the fire exit’s alarm and wrap around the outside of the building to the back lot,” Jaina answered, too lost in thought to be concerned with suppressing frustrated sarcasm.

Sylvanas scowled and placed her hands on her hips as she began to pace. Her actions lifted her suit jacket just enough that the shape of a small object made itself visible to Jaina, and a fully-formed plan surfaced from the chaos in her mind. She peered around the corner to check and see if the guard was still holding his previous position before turning back to Sylvanas, who had stopped her movements to see what the other woman was about to do.

“Are you capable of throwing a knife with lethal accuracy?”

“I... what?”

“I know you have at least one knife concealed on your person, I could feel it when you put your arm around me earlier and now I can see it on your belt. The only way we can get to the exit is if you’re able to incapacitate the guard without giving him the chance to fire off his gun and bring the rest of his friends running. Can you use that knife or not?”

Sylvanas gave Jaina an unreadable look as she retrieved two obsidian knives from beneath her suit jacket. Despite her growing frustration and worry, Jaina was still able to appreciate the elegance of such expertly crafted blades. She watched as Sylvanas flipped one of the daggers around in her hand so that she could hold it by the lethal end before quickly stepping around the corner to whip the weapon at the guard. The only sound Jaina could make out was the man slumping to the ground, his gun miraculously not clattering against the floor since it remained clipped to his bulletproof vest.

The two women quickly moved down the hall, unsure of what the patrol system was like and wanting to preserve their concealment for as long as possible. Sylvanas dropped down to retrieve her knife, wiping off the crimson liquid on the guard’s shirt.

“We should take his gun.”

“Absolutely not. We don’t need any more evidence of our being here.”

“Jaina, we’d be walking to our deaths without it.”

“Not necessarily,” Jaina said as she reached down to unhook the earpiece from the guard’s ear. After retrieving the radio from one of the front pockets of the man’s tactical vest, she handed both items to Sylvanas. “Put it on.”

Jaina could hear the faint sound of distorted speech coming from the earpiece as the other woman fixed it into place. If her beautifully detailed coat had survived a little better in the explosion, Sylvanas wouldn’t look out of place standing guard with the thug who had been blocking their path moments earlier. Jaina did her best not to dwell on the thought, choosing instead to use that detail to her advantage.

“Change of plans. You look the part enough that it would be more convincing if you took the gun with you. And if your aim with a rifle is anything like your ability to throw knives, we could use the extra protection.”

“I’m not sure if I should be offended or flattered that you assume that I know how to operate firearms.”

Jaina ignored the comment, instead noticing confusion cloud over the other woman’s face when she reached down to pick up the rifle. Sylvanas slid out the magazine and held it up so that Jaina could see what the problem was.

“The magazine is completely empty,” Sylvanas explained. “He doesn’t even have any spare ammunition on him. Why be worried about killing people after detonating a building?”

“I have some theories, but we need to keep moving.”

“Fair enough. I’ll lead the way.”

The two cautiously made their way through the remainder of the back passageways. The chain of events that had led to Jaina’s sneaking around with the lethal stranger had happened in a blur, and quite frankly she had a difficult time wrapping her head around the situation. The attack happened after her introductory speech, which would have been the more opportune time for the collapse if the goal had been to take as many lives as possible. None of the guests had criminal connections as far as Jaina knew, and Sylvanas seemed to genuinely not know what was going on; it was much harder to fake physiological manifestations of emotional distress than one might think.

The only indication that evening that anything was wrong was her father’s insistence on inviting a dozen or so of the Silver Hand as guests so that there would be at least some security at the event. There were no politicians at the gala, Jaina never could stand how everything they did was to further their public image. No, she had invited colleagues and other respected people from Stormwind’s community. Admittedly many of these people also had the kind of disposable income that would help keep the museum afloat, but they weren’t so wealthy or otherwise important that they would have been the targets of a terrorist attack. Jaina didn’t believe in coincidences, and while her father had the tendency to stress constantly over his only daughter, his concern felt out of place.

“Isn’t that the exit?” Sylvanas said, breaking the eerie silence. “There’s no one standing watch over two propped open doors, and the lot is completely empty.”

“Something’s wrong. Why just the one guard?”

Sylvanas had zoned out and was no longer paying attention. It took Jaina a moment to realize that she was listening to the earpiece. She watched as the woman visibly paled, and Jaina’s own panic began to bubble up inside of her.

“We need to get as far away from this building as possible,” Sylvanas said as she grabbed Jaina’s arm and began pulling her back the way they came.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Where’s the nearest elevator?”

“We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on,” Jaina demanded, pulling her arm out of Sylvanas’ grip and forcing them both to a halt.

“Jaina, we’re dealing with some dangerous people right now. You’re right in that the explosion was just a cover-up. If they find out that anyone that survived suspects otherwise—”

“Hold on, who’s ‘they’?”

“How about I explain on the way to the elevator?”

“Fine,” Jaina relented. “We need to double back a little ways, but it’s not that far from where we are.”

“Does City Hall have a mirror image layout?”

“Yes, for the first floor at least.”

“Great. I think I know the way.”

**//**

/ _taser - helgi sæmundur_ /

The voice from the radio echoed in Sylvanas’ head over and over. Even after all these years, there’s no way she could have forgotten the gravelly voice; it still had that chilling effect on her. Hearing it again was like being forced to relive a dark part of her past, one that she had worked hard to compartmentalize and hide away. Thankfully, Jaina seemed to pick up on some of this and remained silent as they retraced their steps through City Hall.

When they passed the dead guard, Sylvanas removed the earpiece and tossed the radio back onto the body. She dropped the rifle beside its previous owner as well, doing her best to ignore the quizzical expression on Jaina’s face. She couldn’t decide whether she appreciated or was annoyed by the fact that Jaina had the tendency to analyze and pick everything apart, including Sylvanas’ involvement in the attack and her emotional response to the situation. The woman kept up with her pace, and didn’t bring up the situation until they reached the elevators.

“You owe me an explanation,” Jaina said.

“I know.”

“You could start with why you ended up at my gala,” Jaina’s tone was still laced with frustration, but was much calmer than it had been previously.

“My work consists of a variety of odd jobs for a wide range of clientele. All of what I do is perfectly legal, but things become complicated when the organizations that I deal with don’t share the same circumstances or sentiments. I found out too late that some of my people had gotten themselves mixed up in tonight’s events. I honestly had no idea what that might entail, I only came to round up any last stragglers that didn’t have the common sense to drop the job while they still had the chance.”

“I don’t like that you’re avoiding the use of any identifying pronouns.”

“It would just be more to explain, and those details aren’t exactly relevant.”

“They could be.”

Sylvanas sighed, not sure how to bring Jaina onto her side. She used the slight delay in the time it took for the elevator to slow to a complete stop and the doors to slide open as a think space before continuing.

“I recognized one of the voices on the radio. It’s difficult for me to describe exactly what he is. He has a lot of money and power, but he’s not a gangster. He’s never directly involved in crimes, he’s more so an investor or sponsor of sorts. He sets the pieces in place and makes it possible for people to move around. Long before I got involved in what I do now, I had a…run-in of sorts with him. It’s complicated, and it doesn’t matter how I know him. What _is_ important is that he’s basically untouchable, at least from a legal standpoint. He’s the mastermind behind some of the biggest crimes in the last decade, but the authorities have never been able to find strong enough evidence to get a conviction or even an arrest. He’s a ghost, one that I thought I’d never have to deal with ever again.”

“Does he have a name?”

“None that I know of. People talk about him like he’s some nameless god.”

“Fair enough,” Jaina conceded.

The pair had come to a stop in front of Sylvanas’ motorcycle. It was one of several vehicles parked in the area. Sylvanas began to remove the various locks from her bike and couldn’t help but realize that maybe these remaining cars reflected the number of lives that were lost as a result of the explosion.

“I don’t think you’d be safe at your place tonight,” Sylvanas said as she handed her helmet to the other woman. “I’m going to take a guess and say that people only knew about your event tonight if they were from the museum management world or if they knew you through a more personal connection. You easily could have been the target of the explosion.”

“How do I know that you don’t have ulterior motives? That you haven’t been manipulating me from the very start?”

“You don’t, and nothing I can say will convince you, I know that. I just need you to trust me.”

Sylvanas could practically see Jaina’s mind working, calculating all the possible outcomes of her situation. It always frustrated her when she couldn’t convince people that she was right; it made her feel dumb at times. But right now, it made her feel like she really _was_ responsible for everything that happened tonight. Sylvanas straddled the bike and busied herself with starting up the Sunstrider’s engine, giving it a chance to warm up. The deep rumbling echoed across the mostly empty space around them.

When the other woman finally responded, her voice was slightly muffled. Sylvanas turned to see that Jaina had slipped the helmet over her head and was securing the clip beneath her chin.

“Whether or not you’ve been completely honest with me is a matter for another time. Right now, it doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice.” Jaina pulled her dress up so that she could swing a leg over the bike. Sylvanas felt arms reach around her midsection as Jaina moved in behind her. With a twist of her wrist, she let the bike roll forward before fully releasing the clutch and accelerating through the parking garage. Being careful to take the additional passenger into account considering neither of them were properly clothed for a motorcycle ride, Sylvanas exited the underground structure and carefully pulled out onto the city streets. Sirens could be heard nearby outside of the main entrance to City Hall, the commotion matched only by the bustling nightlife of Stormwind. The two took off into the night, headed towards what they assumed would be safety and solace from the evening’s chaos.

**//**

/ _black car - beach house_ /

Sylvanas strode through the entry hallway to her loft apartment. Her returned helmet she left on a hook by the door, and her keys she tossed onto the basic dining table that established an imaginary boundary for the kitchen area that was otherwise open to the rest of the loft. Jaina had entered behind her and sat herself down on one of the couches that composed the living room. Sylvanas hit a few switches on the wall and illuminated the kitchen before filling up a kettle with water and putting it on the stove to boil. She removed her tattered jacket with care, retrieving a hanger from the entryway closet so that the fabric wouldn’t receive any more abuse than it already had that evening.

“Give me a moment and I’ll be back with something for you to change into. There’s also tea in the cabinet directly above the microwave, you’re welcome to help yourself.”

Sylvanas was too tired to wait for a response from the other woman, instead opting to immediately make her way up to the loft that formed her bedroom. The adrenaline rush from the evening’s events had long since dissipated, and she was beginning to feel aches and pains from the explosion. It wasn’t until she had removed her shirt that she realized that some of the smaller shards of cement had torn through her layers of clothing and embedded into her back. Most of the cement she could simply brush off, but one piece in particular had scraped across her right shoulder blade and stopped in an awkward place on her upper back that she couldn’t quite reach on her own. The padding of her jacket must have shifted when she ducked her body, allowing the stray particle to do more damage than the rest.

After throwing on a pair of sweats and a tank top that wouldn’t irritate her wounds, Sylvanas grabbed some clothes that she hoped would fit Jaina, and headed back downstairs. She found the woman leaned forward, her forearms resting on her knees and her head bowed so that she could massage her temples. Sylvanas placed the pile of folded clothing on the coffee table, her proximity enough to gain Jaina’s attention.

“Hopefully these will do for the night. There’s a bathroom down the hall past the kitchen, back by the entryway. If there’s anything else that you need, just ask.”

“Is there a shower I can use?”

“Yeah, upstairs past the bed, you can’t miss it.”

Jaina simply nodded in acknowledgement. Sylvanas watched as she kicked off her shoes and placed them beside the couch before padding upstairs.

It was odd having another person in her space. Sylvanas never had people over, preferring instead to maintain the apartment as a place that she could escape to and not be bothered. Tonight was a rare exception of course, considering the string of events that had unraveled. Oddly enough, bringing Jaina to the loft didn’t feel like an intrusion or violation of her privacy. Hearing the shower running was definitely new and unfamiliar, and Jaina’s footsteps created a different rhythm of creaks across the wooden floors of the apartment, bringing to Sylvanas’ attention the fact that people brought with them a certain loudness even in absolute silence. It was something that she needed to think about at a later and less stressful time.

The faint whistle of the teakettle stirred Sylvanas from her thoughts. She poured herself a mug of hot water, not really in the mood to wait for tea but still taking comfort in the nighttime ritual of consuming a hot beverage and creating time to mentally unwind. Sylvanas went to go stand by the windows of her loft apartment, clouds diffusing the moon’s usual glow and sheltering the woman in the kind of darkness that she had come to take comfort in over the years. The very fact that many people shied away from its uncertainty was what drew Sylvanas to it.

Sylvanas went through a mental checklist of obligations. She would have to reach out to Nathanos in the morning to see if he could still be considered one of the Forsaken after the night’s events. Outside of that one crucial task, she considered neglecting all her other responsibilities. The Undercity operated well enough without her guidance, and a day off was long overdue anyhow. She needed time to think, to heal, and perhaps most importantly rest. Her world moved far too fast at times, and tonight was more than enough evidence of that.

By the time the water shut off upstairs, Sylvanas had emptied her mug. She placed it on the kitchen counter next to the sink, then headed to the bathroom near the entryway to see what could be done about her shoulder. Reaching for it on her own seemed to achieve nothing, so she returned to the living room where Jaina was standing.

“The City Hall seemed to do some damage after all,” Sylvanas motioned to her shoulder. “I can’t reach it on my own, would you mind giving me a hand?”

“You generally aren’t supposed to pull out objects that are embedded in your flesh without proper medical attention, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re referring to something more severe, like stab wounds. I happen to know what that feels like and I can assure you that this is nowhere as deep.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Jaina said, shaking her head in mixed amusement and concern. She stepped closer to Sylvanas, who had pulled her own platinum hair out in front of her so that it wouldn’t get in the way. Jaina placed one hand near the wound to stabilize the area, and gingerly removed the piece of cement with the other. Sylvanas hissed in pain, turning to see the size of the object that had just been dislodged from her shoulder.

“I’m almost offended by how something so small can hurt so much.”

“You’re still going to need to disinfect the area, I think the cut is deeper than you’re imagining it.”

Sylvanas returned to the hallway bathroom and turned her back to the mirror to get a better look. Jaina hovered in the doorway, concern etched all over her face. “Maybe also get something to bandage the cut, you’re bleeding all over your shirt,” the shorter woman added.

With Jaina’s help (and after a significant amount of cursing), Sylvanas was able to properly clean herself up and tend to the rest of her cuts and scrapes. By that point she was overcome with the overwhelming urge to sleep. She went to yawn but flinched mid-stretch, having already forgotten to take her injuries into consideration.

“I can take the couch,” Jaina offered.

“You sure?”

“I doubt you’ll be in any state of mobility tomorrow if you slept down here. I’ll be fine with a blanket and spare pillow.”

“If you say so.”

Sylvanas made her way upstairs to grab the requested items and returned to find Jaina in the process of hanging up her dress in the hallway closet. She offered a quick “goodnight” before retiring to the loft and finally sliding under the covers of her own bed. Sleep quickly overcame the woman, her last moments of consciousness just picking up on Jaina’s voice as she spoke softly with someone on the phone.

**//**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like the true cryptid that i am, occasionally i will emerge to offer my contribution to the fandom. your patience is appreciated, and i do hope that the wait was worth it. more to come.


End file.
